


work ethic, break ethic

by wrenchwench



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prompt: Break, Prompt: Connection, THFF, TMA Hiatus Flash Fanwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:52:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrenchwench/pseuds/wrenchwench
Summary: Jon works too hard. Martin thinks he should take a break, and maybe eat food, sometimes?
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 89
Collections: The Magnus Archives Flash Fanwork Challenge





	work ethic, break ethic

**Author's Note:**

> LATE! LATE FOR THE FLASH FANWORK SUBMISSION TIME AGAIN!! GOD DAMMIT!
> 
> this is set after jon is like MARTIN YOU SHOULD STAY IN THE ARCHIVES. FOR SAFETY. PLEASE BE SAFE
> 
> so like.. middle/end season 1

The door to the office creaked open. Jon barely noticed. Beneath the desk, his leg bounced, making the chair squeak slightly.

“It’s just gone five-thirty, Jon.”

Jon read the next line. A cup of tea was placed in front of him, and a pile of paperwork was moved to be slightly less precariously placed. Shortly, the office was quiet again. Jon turned the page.

The door to the office creaked open. Jon barely noticed. In his hand, a ballpoint pen. On the page below, a multitude of tiny dots, where the pen had been tapped. No notes. Nothing relevant had come up, except the word _helminthology_. Nothing. How was that possible?

“Jon? It’s past seven. Do you want to eat something? I didn’t see you get lunch.”

Jon scribbled down the name _Satyu Yamaguti_. From nearby, there was a little sigh, and the clink of cups. A fresh mug of tea was set before him. Then, silence. Jon clicked the next link.

The door to the office creaked open. Jon barely noticed. The office lights had gone off hours ago, leaving only his computer screen to brighten the space. Tucked underneath him, shoes kicked off under his desk, his feet had long gone numb. Footsteps, then-

“A Synoptical Review of Life Histories of Digenetic Trematodes of Vertebrates with Special Reference to the Morphology of their Larval Forms,” read Martin, voice going slightly strange towards the end. “Jon.. what are you _doing?_ ”

Jon blinked, then flinched. 

“Jon?”

“I’m- ow,” he hissed, hands lifting to rub at his gritty eyes, pain lancing through his head. Martin’s hand caught one before he could reach, and delicately removed the pen before he accidentally blinded himself.

“Jon,” he said again, sounding halfway between frustrated and amused. “Don’t rub them, that’s bad for you. Wait a moment, okay?”

The office door clicked shut, and Jon sat in silence with his eyes closed. Moments later, the familiar creak sounded again, and Martin was back.

“Take your glasses off and tilt your head back. Little bit further- good. Now, here.”

Something hot and damp was laid over Jon’s closed eyes. A bead of water ran down into his hair, making him shiver.

“It’s just a warm compress,” Martin was saying. “I don’t have any Optrex or anything like that, and the saline solution I have is old, I wouldn’t want to use it. Should really throw it out.”

“Why do you have saline solution at work?” said Jon. His voice sounded scratchy, like he hadn’t spoken in hours - which he hadn’t, really. That would explain that.

“Well,” said Martin, from somewhere behind Jon, “I- obviously you know that I wear glasses, can’t really get past that, haha, but, um, when I first started working here, back in the Library, I thought maybe I would try contact lenses, for a bit.”

Jon made a noise that might have been _really?_ , might have been _oh, I see_ , might have been _**god** , this compress feels good_. Might have been all of them. He could feel the headache that had been ever-present over the last two days begin to fade.

“Yeah,” said Martin, sounding a little fainter. Had he left the office? He must have propped the door open, otherwise Jon wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Someone made a comment about how my glasses were, um, unflattering. And Specsavers had an offer on to try contacts, so I thought, you know, why not? But the whole process of getting them in and out was just kind of frustrating. And then the next week, someone else made a comment about how she thought I looked strange out of glasses, so I just… stopped using them. Stupid, really. Doesn’t matter if these glasses make my face look weird or not, just matters that I can see, you know?”

“I like your glasses,” said Jon, surprising himself. Martin, who had come back at some point during all of that, gave a little squeak.

“I- really? I mean, thanks! I like yours. Your glasses, too, I mean.”

“Yours suit you,“ said Jon. “The shape, the colour. I can’t really imagine you without them, although I’m sure you wouldn’t look as strange as that person said.”

Silence. _I’ve said something wrong_ , thought Jon. _As usual._

“Thanks, Jon. That was... _really_ nice of you to say.”

_Oh, thank god._

“Here. That must be getting cold by now, you only need to have it on for a few minutes. Let me just-”

Martin’s fingertips brushed against Jon’s temples, and the cloth was removed. He opened his eyes to see Martin’s blurry form once again moving away, out the door. His glasses were placed helpfully on the desk, and he put them on. They seemed.. different, somehow. Jon took them off again and examined them, then huffed slightly. Martin had cleaned them.

_Well, they were in need of it._

“Jon?”

Martin had returned once more, leaning against the doorframe. Jon noticed, for the first time, that he was in what was clearly sleepwear: a soft, white and blue striped flannel set, and fluffy socks. Jon half expected to look up and see that he was wearing a little blue sleep-hat as well.

“Do you want to eat something? _Any_ thing? Toast? Cereal?”

“I should go home,” said Jon. “You need to go to sleep, clearly-”

Martin scoffed.

“Oh, yes. Just hop on a train, will you? At this time of night? It’s almost midnight, Jon. By the time you get home you’ll practically have to start back again.” 

Jon stared at him, then at his computer screen, then at his phone ( _4% battery_ ). 11.53PM. Fuck.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Right,” said Martin, jerking his head towards the breakroom. “So come and eat something, then just sleep here.”

“I suppose that is the most logical course of action,” said Jon. He stood, took a step towards the door, and tripped over his own feet with a yelp. 

“Jon!”

Martin’s hands were hot against his chest and shoulder, where they had caught him. Jon’s head was spinning. Or was that his office? Who was to say?

“Jon, _oh_ my god. This is what happens when you don’t eat anything all day long, and probably not much yesterday either. Come on.”

He was maneuvered rather expertly into the breakroom, which was thankfully not far from his office, and from there onto the couch. His feet were tingling badly with pins and needles, and he was instructed to duck his head to get rid of the dizziness and black encroaching on his vision.

“You’re kind of a disaster, sometimes,” said Martin, clearly not meaning to be heard. There was the sound of the toaster. From his position with his head between his legs, Jon rolled his eyes. _Martin and Georgie would probably get on well_ , he thought dizzily.

“Here.” 

There was the clink of a plate hitting the table, and he sat up. Tea and toast were laid out in front of him, with jars of jam and the butter and a little tub of Tesco’s own-brand nutella. Across from him, Martin sipped his own tea.

“Um,” said Jon. Martin’s expression did not change. It said, _Jon Sims, you may well be my manager, but you are clearly not a functional human being, and if you don’t eat that fucking toast, there will be Consequences._

“Thanks,” said Jon, and reached for the knife. Butter. Jam (raspberry). The bread was cheap white stuff, but that almost made it better in a way. Jon could remember a hundred other plates of toast like this from his childhood. He ate a slice slowly, then realised just how hungry he was and ate the other three in rapid succession. 

Martin drank his tea and watched. Jon found that he didn’t mind all that much. Shortly his tea was drunk and his plate was cleared and his head was feeling oddly fuzzy. 

“Bedtime,” said Martin, watching Jon’s blinks get slower.

“Mhm,” said Jon, and tipped sideways. The couch was ancient, but that only meant it was soft. He could sleep here, and in fact had many times, before he’d brought in the cot.

Around him, the lights dimmed. Something soft was laid over his shoulders. It smelled oddly familiar, and he turned his face into it.

“Goodnight, Jon.”

“Mm.”

The door to the breakroom creaked closed. Jon slept.

**Author's Note:**

> jon is reading a complicated paper about parasitic worms! i picked one p much at random from the internet. hes positive he can find something out about janey's worm friends but unfortunately all the papers are about, you know, NORMAL parasitic worms. not eldritch horror parasitic worms. o well
> 
> martin: jon um maybe you should eat something  
> jon: im busy  
> martin: o-oh okay im sure you know whats best  
> jon: damages his eyes reading too long, collapses from hunger  
> martin: okay actually you know what fuck what i just said you are clearly an idiot and i WILL be the one to take care of you
> 
> of course martin goes and lies down on the cot and has a little freak-out of his own about how he just! bullied jon! into doing stuff! HE'S PROBABLY GONNA GET IN SUCH TROUBLE FOR THIS ONCE JON COMES TO HIS SENSES TOMORROW!!  
> (spoilers! he does not!)


End file.
